


In the Ice, In the Sun (It's All the Same)

by Beneath_the_Trees



Category: Hooky (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Damien-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 11:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beneath_the_Trees/pseuds/Beneath_the_Trees
Summary: Damien had been friends with Guilt longer than he cared to admit.He'd learned how to deal with them, to shove them aside, but they'd been growing alongside him all these years even if he tried to stop them.William's admittance to why he'd constantly sacrificed himself ends up being the last thing Damien wanted to hear.





	In the Ice, In the Sun (It's All the Same)

**Author's Note:**

> In which Damien struggles to forgive himself, and he's finally reached the breaking point.

Guilt was an old friend of Damien’s.

They’d first met at the age of four, sitting together in that cell and left watching, helpless, as his mother was pulled onto a pile of hay and tied tightly to a wooden pole. His dad had pulled Damien into his arms and Guilt had lightly pressed their hand into his back before fading away as the red king stormed into the village and put a stop to the burning.

Guilt had faded into relief at the sight, but it stayed beside Damien as he ran to his mom’s unconscious form and grabbed her hand, a weight in his stomach that made the tears flow harder as his dad yelled in anger at the Red King’s apologies.

They’d returned that night as Damien peeked into his parent’s room, where his mother sat surrounded by black smoke that burned the back of his tongue. He couldn’t look away from the scene even as Guilt leaned over him, their hands on his shoulders and slowly pressed down with a noisy creak, wrapping chains around his chest.

_It’s all your fault_, They whispered, voice so warm and heartbroken that it made Damien’s heart feel like it was bleeding out because they were right. The town turning on his family because Damien showed them his magic, his mom going crazy—all of it was his fault.

Guilt had been a constant beside him ever since; sometimes, they ghosted over him, breathing across his neck and reflecting in the eyes of his mother as she called for revenge against the humans with her icy smile, but other times they crushed down on him like a bag of rocks, draping their arms across his shoulders while burying their face in his neck like a lover as he watched his dad kill his friend’s parents.

Nowadays Guilt stayed by his side more often than not.

It felt like he was breaking inside most of the time: guilt over loving Will when he was to be married, over not bringing Dani and Dorian with him, over losing Will, his dad, his siblings, his _family_—

Damien wondered if it’d ever stop hurting.

By the time Dani and Dorian were back with them, safe and sound, and their mother without her powers, Damien was tired of it all.

Over the past three years, Guilt had become nothing more than a ghost haunting his every step; sometimes solidifying enough to push down on his chest until he’d go to sleep with the uncomfortable weight that evening.

But even then it sometimes became the giant it once was, crushing him until there was nothing left but blood and dust.

He could feel their hands, their arms wrapping around his shoulders as Will leapt into the mouth of that sea monster, and for a moment he could do nothing but choke on the blood building in his throat from the glass they’d filled it with.

“_Will!_” His voice sounded foreign even to him, broken and hoarse through the shards cutting apart his throat.

“No, no, no, no, please, no!” He raced for the monster’s smoking remains, uncaring how it could affect him when all his thoughts were screaming to _Find Will hurry hurry hurry he could be dead and it’s all because you can’t give him a damned compliment it’s your fault you did this you—_

He grabbed Will’s fallen sword, clutching it tight enough his knuckles turned white. “I’m gonna get Will out of there.” Something wet and hot slipped down Damien’s cheek as his chest trembled with every breath, tears blurring his vision. “I’ll open that fucking serpent from top to bottom, if necessary.”

Damien lifted the sword above his head, unaccustomed to the weight and feeling more out of his depth than he had in years. He couldn’t let Will die; he couldn’t lose him again, please, please, _please—_

_Your fault, your fault, blind little boy---_

“Damien!”

Damien froze at Monica’s shout, jaw aching from how hard he was clenching his teeth as he looked at her.

Monica waved her hand, sticking it out from the monster’s skin the same way the tentacles had broken through everything Damien had thrown at it. “Look!”

He was sure his heart stopped in his chest, confusion flooding away the cold hands tightening their grip on his shoulders. “What the…” He lowered the sword, staring at where Monica’s arm met monster like it’d explain itself. “What the hell…?”

“Dammit, Damien.” Damien’s eyes widened and he snapped his head to the side to see Will in front of him, smiling like he hadn’t just given Monica and Damien the world’s biggest heart attacks. “You almost stuck the sword in my forehead!”

Damien heard himself scream, felt the way words made their way around the giant lump in his throat and the tears spilled even harder from his eyes, but it was like relief had completely drained him. He felt like he was watching everything happen from somewhere else, there but not, and his throat closed up the moment the shock disappeared.

_Apologize_, He told himself, watching as people crowded around Monica and Will with pride and amazement in their eyes. The chains around his chest felt like they were tightening again, wrapping around his throat and squeezing just enough he couldn’t speak. _Ask if something’s wrong, do something, anything, that just stand there like an idiot_.

For some reason, watching as Will spoke with the townspeople and looked like he genuinely belonged there only made it worse. He looked so happy, like he’d finally done something amazing and wonderful even though he’d always been that, and the chains squeezed tight enough to hurt while his heart felt like it might explode from how _beautiful_ Will looked in that moment.

“Have you seen that, Damien?!” Will grinned, cheeks red as he blocked the side of his mouth with his hand and pointed to the crowd while whispering, “They like me!”

A smile made its way onto Damien’s lips, even as his chest hurt from the pressure and metal cutting into it. “Of course they like you!” He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Through it all Guilt clung to him on and off, a rock or a ghost, as they found and rescued Dani again, brought her back from her mind, and come home with a sense of everything horrible finally being _done_.

And Damien… Damien wasn’t sure what to do. He felt worse than he had in a long time, like Guilt’s hand had drilled into his chest and was holding his heart hostage, ready to crush it the next chance they got.

He hadn’t apologized to Will yet, had he?

He felt sick.

Damien groaned, curling into a ball in front of the couch. How could he even apologize now? It’s been days since the incident, talking about it now would just be weird.

…Wouldn’t it?

“Why are you on the floor?”

Damien jumped, whirling around to face Will and words caught in his throat.

Will smiled sheepishly, raising his hand in a halfhearted wave. “Uh, sorry. Should I come back later?”

“No!” Damien hated how quickly that came out, how the hand around his heart began to push in ever so slightly with their claws. He looked away, clearing his throat and standing up. “Did you need something?”

Will was silent as he walked over, eyes determined and filled with an emotion Damien couldn’t quite place. It made him tense as Will came to a stop in front of him and only stared, studying him in a way that made him feel like Will was able to see every part of him.

“Are you okay?”

Damien’s heart dropped to the floor, bony and clawed fingers digging in enough he almost doubled over from the pain; _he_ was supposed to be asking that, not Will.

“I’m fine,” He croaked, because Damien wasn’t about to make this about him when he could learn to deal with this pain like he’s always done and Will had nearly sacrificed himself two times too many. “I should be asking you that: is there a problem we need to talk about?”

For a second, Will looked confused, like he hadn’t expected to be asked such a thing or expected something different. Then realization hit and he let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, you mean back then, with the snake…”

All Damien could do was nod.

“Well, to be honest, that’s already over and done with.” Will shrugged, not meeting Damien’s eyes. “I just wanted you guys to see I could _do something_, y’know? That I wasn’t useless.” Will looked back down, smiling in a way that took Damien’s breath away (even though it hurt more than he cared to admit to hear) as he continued, “But then my people started mentioning how brave I was, how it made them happy to see that I was there fighting alongside them, and I realized! I don’t have to slay something in order to be a hero for my people—I just have to help where I can.”

His smile softened even more, gentle and bright like a warm autumn day, “I still want to protect you and Monica, but I don’t feel so useless anymore. I think I’m okay now, but… I’ll be sure to talk to you about it if it happens again.”

Damien knew he should be happy to hear that Will was feeling better, that he wouldn’t sacrifice himself again, but he couldn’t feel anything over the ice on his skin and the whispers in his head.

_It’s your fault,_ Guilt whispered, nestling their face in the crook of his neck as Damien’s breath hitched in his lungs. They pushed down on him, hands draped across him in a cage. _You made him feel that way._

Will’s smile faded, replaced with concern as his eyes looked for something they couldn’t see. “Damien?”

The chains around Damien’s throat constricted, cutting away more of his breathing, his heart pierced by freezing hands; he wrapped his arms around himself, doubling over from the pain and trying to keep himself from spilling out. Will’s shout of his name felt like it was far away, drowned out by the choked sobs echoing in Damien’s ears and the splash of tears on the floor.

“_I’m sorry_,” He wheezed, voice taut and shaking. He couldn’t bear to look at Will, clutching his heart like he could pull the hand away from its crushed remains. He couldn’t stop trembling. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you feel useless, I didn’t mean to be overprotective, I didn’t mean to shout, I just—I—”

As soon as he started, it was like a dam had broken inside Damien. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand, apologies spilling from his lips like rivers. He apologized for everything: for making Will feel useless, for not being good enough to protect Monica’s parents, for his mom, for his dad, for being the cause for this all in the first place even though he _knew_ it wasn’t his fault but it sure as hell felt like it was—everything.

And by the end of it he felt sick and cold and so very, very exhausted because he could still feel Guilt haunting him at the edges, waiting to creep back in because he wasn’t sure these feelings would ever go away; except the arms and chest he’d collapsed against at some point were warm and gentle, and Damien couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt this safe.

Will was silent above him, holding Damien like he was afraid Damien would disappear if he let go. Damien was afraid to lift his head: he didn’t want to see whatever expression was on Will’s face.

“….Damien?”

Damien tensed, embarrassment starting to creep past the exhaustion as he realized just what had happened.

“…. Look at me? Please?”

Slowly, he did as asked; he raised his head, looking at Will only when he dared to, and his breath stuck in his throat at what he saw.

Will was biting his lower lip, eyes shining with unshed tears, and cheeks flushed. He looked… sad. Scared. Like his heart had broken into a billion pieces.

Damien can’t remember a time he’d ever looked like that.

“_None_ of that is your fault, you know that, right?”

_Of course_, Damien wanted to say, because he knew that Will was right, _but it doesn’t stop it from hurting_. It doesn’t stop him from feeling like it was.

The silence stretched, answer enough for Will as he opened and closed his mouth like he couldn’t figure out what to say. At one point, Damien tried to pull away from Will—he shouldn’t be this close to him, not out in the open like this-- only to be brought back close and held even tighter.

The action seemed to spur Will on, his cheeks turning ever darker as he stumbled over his words, “And…do… do you really feel guilty for loving me?”

Damien’s chest ached, and though there was still a part of him that whispered yes, he did,_ you’re the king and I don’t deserve you_, Damien knew with absolute certainty that there was no one and nothing he loved more.

“No,” He said, keeping his eyes glued to Will’s. “I don’t. If there’s one thing I don’t regret in this life, it’s loving you.”

A bright smile spread across Will’s face at Damien’s words, his arms squeezing Damien a little bit closer. “Good! Because I’ve done a lot of thinking these past weeks, and I’ve come to realize something.”

“What’s that?”

Will smirked, a small chuff of a laugh leaving him and the next thing Damien knew is there were lips pressed against his, surrounding him in warmth and spice and everything so completely _Will_ that Damien almost wasn’t sure what was happening. Damien melted into the kiss, his hands curling into the fabric of Will’s shirt.

The kiss ended far too quickly; Damien had no idea when he closed his eyes but here he was opening them, and the sight that greeted him took whatever bit of breath he had left.

“I love you, too, Damien,” Will whispered, lifting a hand from around Damien’s waist to rest on his cheek instead. “More than anything.”

Damien felt like he was dreaming. He _had_ to be dreaming. He’d wanted this for so long, Will saying it now seemed almost insane. “Pinch me,” He breathed, earning a confused look. Damien placed his hand over the one on his face, never breaking eye contact. “Pinch me! I need to know I’m not dreaming.”

Relief flooded through Will’s eyes; he laughed as he did as asked, taking Damien’s cheek between his fingers and pinching just hard enough to sting. A laugh bubbled up in Damien’s throat, he could feel a smile spreading across his face and his chest trembled as he let out a shuddering exhale.

“See? It’s real.”

Damien nodded, letting his head fall forward to rest on Will’s chest. “Yeah, it is.”

He could feel the ghost of fingers against his back, sharper and colder than Will’s, but before they could do so much as graze against his back Will took his face back in his hands and gave him another kiss, deeper than the first.

It’d take a long time to finally stop feeling like everything was his fault, Damien knew this well; the cold always found its way back into his skin no matter what he tried. Yet as a gentle heat filled him up from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes, warming him like the sun, Damien had a feeling it might actually be possible now.

They wouldn’t have to run around looking desperately for one of their group, wouldn’t have to fight against their families, could finally relax after so many years of living in the frozen wastelands and castles their parents had left behind.

They could finally be free, and maybe, just maybe, Damien could free himself. Someday.

Right now, though, he just wanted to stay like this with Will, unafraid of what might happen in the future, no longer thinking of the past, and warmer than he’d felt in years.

**Author's Note:**

> in a way, this is a companion piece to this:


End file.
